


The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

by danyellz (dildolls)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, More characters to be added, Moulin Rouge AU, Rating may go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dildolls/pseuds/danyellz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy Unwin is the most popular dancer at the infamous nightclub, the Moulin Rouge. Men travel from all over the world to fall in love with, and be loved by, the most gorgeous boy in Paris. Harry Hart is a writer who has made quite the name for himself as a romantic, despite never having been in love. The two seem to be drawn together by destiny, but can their love survive the dark forces determined to pull them apart?</p>
<p>Featuring Harry Hart as the writer with a huge talent, Eggsy Unwin as someone who wants to know what the fuck is going on, Merlin as the doctor, Roxy as the fantastic best friend, Daisy as a ray of sunshine, JB as a gift, and Dean as a pile of shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  So, this is going to tear my still beating heart out, but at least I won't be alone, right guys? Right? Oh well, at least I'll drag [Kassi](http://onto-mordor.tumblr.com/) down with me.
> 
>    
> [](http://hartwin-danny.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> Banner by[this amazing person.](http://hartwin-danny.tumblr.com/)  
>  
> 
>   
> Banner by [this other amazing person.](http://fregg.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Rolling through the streets of Paris in 1899, seasoned writer and voice of the bohemian revolution, Harry Hart, briefly wondered why he had never set foot in the city before. His work had managed to take him to many beautiful places, but none had elicited such a visceral feeling of contentment and rightness in him before. It was as if his whole life he had been waiting to set foot in the City of Love, and now that he had, there was no going back. 

Idly, he thought he ought to thank Merlin for blackmailing him into taking the position at the Moulin Rouge. Lord knows if he hadn’t been threatened with the mention of the Baby Grand Piano Incident, he never would have accepted such a low paying job, especially for something as silly as the conversion of a nightclub into a theater. But, Merlin had brought up the Incident, and Harry had had no choice but to pack his bags and travel to Paris. 

Pulling up to the hotel just across the road from the Moulin Rouge, Harry was struck for the first time with how enormous the grounds of the club were. Unless he was mistaken, there even appeared to be a sort of elephant shaped building emerging from the center of the courtyard. Letting out a small chuckle and shaking his head, Harry exited the carriage with all the grace of a man born to privilege. 

The valet busied himself with the bags, while Harry strode purposefully toward the reception desk. 

\--

The suite was perfect. Through the door there was a small sitting area, with a kitchenette to the right, and the spacious bedroom beyond. The bathroom was large, sparkling white, with a tub big enough for two people. The entire space was decorated lavishly in red, white, and gold. It reminded Harry of what little he was able to see of the Moulin Rouge below, and the size of everything suggested the wealthy businessmen who stayed here often spent their nights with dancers from across the road. 

It was a well-known fact that men traveled from all over the world for a chance to simply dance with the star of the Moulin Rouge. Eggsy Unwin’s beauty was legendary. In all honesty, Harry was hoping the boy was half as wonderful as everyone said he was. Merlin was exasperated with him in half of his letters, and in the other half he seemed to speak of nothing else but the boy. He clearly had the usually stern Scotsman wrapped around his finger, and anyone who managed that was worth a bit of curiosity in Harry’s opinion. 

Unpacking was tedious, but if he put it off too long, all his good suits would be too wrinkled to wear. Humming a tune he remembered from his days as a schoolboy, he hung up expensive suit after expensive suit. Suddenly, there was a polite knock at his door. 

Opening the door, Harry was immediately engulfed in a hug. 

“Merlin! It’s good to see you!” Harry said, returning the hug. While not usually the hugging type, it had been quite a few years since their last reunion. 

“Good to see me? You’re damn right it’s good to see me. What? You can’t take time out of your busy schedule to come visit an old friend? I have to blackmail you into a job just to get you in town? You’re a right arse, Harry Hart.” Merlin pulled back to shoot Harry a dirty look as he ranted. 

“Yes, yes. I know. But I’m here now, aren’t I?” Harry asked, looking more than a little sheepish. He knew Merlin was too busy to travel, and his own schedule wasn’t nearly so strict as the doctor’s, but he had his own reasons for keeping his distance from the Moulin Rouge. The entire boat ride had been filled with his late father’s voice booming in his ears. _You’ll end up wasting your life away with a cancan dancer at the Moulin Rouge!_

“Yes, and very underdressed. My word, have you even had a bath since you got here? You reek of horse.” Merlin looked him up and down, a single eyebrow raised in obvious judgment. 

“I only got here twenty minutes ago! I haven’t even finished unpacking. And what exactly do you mean ‘underdressed’?” Harry gazed suspiciously at his friend. “I didn’t realize you had plans for us this evening.”

“Of course I have, Harry! Your first night in Paris should be with friends, and I’ve been dying to introduce you to a few of mine!” Merlin let out a hearty laugh before striding past Harry into the bedroom. He headed straight for the wardrobe and began going through the few things Harry had already put away. Seemingly disappointed in his findings, he turned to the unpacked luggage spread across the bed, and began rifling through the suits there. 

“Friends, Merlin? I’m afraid I’m rather tired from the trip, and I’d fancied a quiet night in.” Harry tried not to pout as his friend rifled through his things. He was a well-known and wildly popular author. It wasn’t becoming of him to pout. 

“I thought about that, but Eggsy practically begged me. You know I can’t say no to the boy, Harry. Well, I can, but I really don’t like it. Besides, he claims to be a pretty big fan of yours. Could spend an evening being doted on by the star of the Moulin Rouge? Come on, what do you say?” Merlin had apparently found something worthwhile in his luggage, and was handing him a tuxedo and top hat with a red waistcoat. 

“Fine,” Harry sighed, trying to conceal his amusement at just how tightly he had become wound around the boy’s finger. 

“Excellent! Now, hurry up and bathe, Harry. I wasn’t kidding when I said you smelled like horse.”

“Fine, fine. Just let me unpack my typewriter and then I’ll take a bath.” Harry said, walking over to a rather expensive looking typewriter case. As he lovingly unpacked his most prized possession, Merlin looked on in disdain. 

“You know, it’s a wonder you manage to write such romantic shite when your most meaningful relationship in life is with a bit of machinery.”

“Merlin, do us a favor, please, and shove it.” Harry said casually, never looking up from where he was setting up at the single desk in the room.

Merlin raised his hands in surrender and watched in amusement as Harry fondled the typewriter. 

“And while you’re at it you can wipe that smug grin off your face. Whatever it is that you’re thinking that leads to that face needs to be stopped.”

“Maybe we could skip the witty banter and get to the bathing? You’ll be late for the show at this rate.”

“Show?”

“You didn’t think you’d get Eggsy to yourself all night, did you? No, I want you to see what the boy’s capable of. I promise you, you’ll be writing entire monologues just to see the boy perform. He’s –“

“Well he must pretty good to have you gushing like a proud mother,” Harry said, amusement thick in his voice. 

“Yes, yes, mock me all you want, you cheeky bastard, but you’ll be singing his praises by the time the night’s over. I guarantee it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry enters the Moulin Rouge and watches the performance of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this got a bit delayed, and I'm very sorry about that. This is actually my second time writing this chapter because I'm dumb, but here it is! Chapter Two!

Walking in to the Moulin Rouge was an experience all on its own. It was as if everything Harry came into contact with or saw as the walked through the hallways was either a dark shade of red, or gilded with gold. There were no other colors in sight, except for the looming blackness of what Merlin called “The Gothic Tower.”

The doors were opened for the pair as they approached them, and Harry was impressed with the quality of service. Then again, the Moulin Rouge was world famous. 

Beyond the doormen lay a courtyard, packed on all sides by gentlemen in suits similar to Harry’s, and beautiful young people in ridiculous costumes. It seemed for every young man or woman dressed as a mermaid or shepherd there were four or five well-dressed men surrounding them, looking as if they would kill for a moment’s solitary attention. 

In the middle of the chaos, a structure rose from the stone floor of the courtyard. Harry could only feel a distant sense of shock at the thing. 

“Merlin, is that a bloody elephant?” Harry asked.

“I’m afraid so, Harry.” Merlin sounded nearly as disgusted as Harry assumed he would feel, once he could think properly again. The Moulin Rouge was clearly not a place for rational thought. 

Through another set of doors at the opposite end of the courtyard, through a red and gold lobby, and up a flight of red-carpeted stairs, Merlin led Harry. When they finally reached a table in a somewhat private box, Harry immediately took the seat across from Merlin, so as to avoid being run over by the many men racing toward the floor. 

They all seemed to be trying to reach the center of the floor, rather than the stage. Harry was momentarily surprised, before he noticed the hole in the ceiling. 

Merlin, noticing Harry’s distraction, leaned across the table and whispered, as quietly as he could in the din of the room, “That’s where Eggsy drops from. It’s a bit cheesy, but Valentine, well. I guess you’ll see.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by dead silence. The quiet was so different from the din of only moments before, that Harry seemed to have no choice but to snap his jaw closed. Merlin looked pointedly at the ceiling, then back to Harry. 

Following his gaze, Harry felt himself sit up a bit straighter in the booth. And then, a voice rang out in the silence of the room. Smooth as silk, and sultry as a midnight kiss, the voice had a way of vibrating through the crowd, sending a shiver of anticipation through each and every man in the once rowdy crowd. 

“The French are glad to die for love…”

A pair of shoes appeared first, stark white, with wings unfolding from the heel. Harry caught on to what Merlin had been unable to explain earlier; Eggsy was supposed to be an angel, descending into the crowd of sinners. It was all rather poetic, if Harry bothered to care. He was more concerned with the voice that seemed to be taking over his every conscious thought. 

“They delight in fighting duels…”

A pair of legs joined the winged feet, with defined muscles obvious even through the material of the fine dress pants. The swing appeared next, with an ass Harry would gladly kill for perched atop it. 

“But I prefer a man who lives…” 

A naked, defined torso came next, with the cuffs and collar of a tuxedo, complete with a bow tie. The sight would have been comical, had it not been for the sure confidence of the man wearing it. The squared shoulders and barely visible set jaw dared any man in the room to laugh. None of them were laughing, however, too drawn in by the sexy way he held himself, and the sweet sound of his voice. 

“And gives expensive…” 

The whole room seemed to hold their breath, each one connected by a feeling of senseless lust. Each one would have killed for the chance to hear that breathy voice utter the next syllable. The anticipation was so thick in the air, Harry could taste it on his tongue.

“Jewels.”

A blond head tipped back, letting a black top hat tumble to the floor where a light scuffle broke out. Piercing light eyes were half-lidded, a pink mouth drawn slightly open on a deep intake of breath. The entire room was filled with the sound of the band as they began playing a rather loud and upbeat song. Every eye was drawn to the boy on the swing, who, as he sat back up, locked eyes with Harry Hart, and winked. 

It was at that moment that Harry Hart realized he was completely and utterly fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for the delay. This isn't even a long chapter, but writing it from Harry's perspective wouldn't work, so I had to scrap it and start over.

Eggsy was looking forward to meeting Merlin’s friend. During his performance, he kept sneaking looks at the table Merlin had reserved for the evening, and he was very interested in what he saw. Harry Hart looked older than the young man in the pictures Merlin had shown him, but it was quite obvious he was the same man. His hair was more neat, his face a bit more lined, and he carried himself differently, but there was still the same mischievous glint in those warm brown eyes. 

His dance came to an end, and he laughed, breathless, under the attention of every man and woman in the room. It was good to be admired for once in his life. Being carried on the arms of the crowd was also an especially wonderful perk. 

As he was lifted onto the balcony of the box Harry and Merlin were situated at, Eggsy giggled a little as more than a few hands strayed decidedly below the waist. Eggsy caught Harry’s slightly murderous gaze as he watched a few too many lingering caresses. While a bit off putting, he couldn’t help stifling a smile at the antics. Men were always getting upset when they couldn’t lay claim to Eggsy’s time. He shared a Look with Merlin before sauntering forwards. 

“I believe you were expecting me,” he said, more than a little breathlessly. 

“Yes,” was all that Harry said, but he seemed exceptionally well put together under Eggsy’s gaze. 

Eggsy offered him a hand, pulling him from his seat as soon as he accepted. Leading Harry to the small staircase that lead from the box to the dance floor, Eggsy smiled at the many jealous glares sent Harry’s way. Harry seemed to notice the many looks, and, as Eggsy lead him to the center of the dance floor, he leaned in close to whisper in Eggsy’s ear.

“I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with most of these dances.” 

“Just follow my lead, yeah? Promise I won’t let you step on my toes.” Eggsy whispered back, a cheeky but reassuring grin on his face. 

As they stood toe to toe and the music started up again, Eggsy couldn’t help but relish in the height difference between himself and Mr. Hart. 

“I’m a big fan of your work.” Eggsy blurted, before he began moving, giving the impression that Harry was the one leading. 

“Really?” Harry seemed genuinely surprised, and Eggsy bristled. 

“What, you think I don’t read?” He asked, his voice coming out a bit dangerous to his own ears. 

“Not at all,” Harry replied calmly. “One never expects to meet a fan, you see. Seems rather arrogant, actually,” he smiled. It was small, but undoubtedly there. Harry had a way of making it seem like it was private, and only for Eggsy. 

Blushing slightly, Eggsy’s only response was a giggle, before he nodded back to their feet. Harry caught on quickly, and before long he seemed he had a strong grip on the steps of the dance. 

But then they were stopping, and Eggsy was sliding down his body, then back up. Harry startled, but quickly recovered. Luckily, the rest of the dance was free of such surprises, and Harry was able to enjoy himself. At least, Eggsy hoped he was enjoying himself. 

As the music drew to a close, Eggsy looked up at Harry, smiling sweetly under his lashes. “I’d like to see you. Tonight. Come to the elephant.”

Before Harry could reply, Eggsy was gone. The swing had descended while he wasn’t looking, and now Eggsy was being hoisted up, trying not to laugh at the startled look on Harry’s face. 

“Diamonds.” A deep breath. “Diamonds.” Another deep breath. "Square cut or pear shape these rocks won’t lose their shape.” Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? “Diamonds are a girl’s best….” And then everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry watches as Eggsy falls from the swing, and, being Harry, senses something amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a truly awful person for making the last chapter a cliffhanger and then NOT FUCKING WRITING SINCE AUGUST. Do you all hate me yet? I kind of hate me. Anyways, it is three thirty in the morning as I am publishing this, and as a sort of apology, I will go directly back to work on the next chapter after this. 
> 
> If you're still reading? Thank you so much. I truly love this story, and I am enjoying working on it, but, well, you know I made a tumblr post about this already, so I won't go into it too much.

Harry Hart had never been in a truly shocking situation in his life. He had been born to privilege, and his own flourishing career as a writer made sure he never saw a day of suffering in his own experience. Oh, he’d written his fair share of heart-stopping and dramatic scenes. He’d even written a fair few near-death experiences for his characters. He had always fancied, as a realist, that the nonsense about things slowing down in a moment of panic was, quire frankly, bullshit. 

He was amazed to find, however, that as Eggsy Unwin’s unconscious form fell from the swing as it ascended into the roof of the Moulin Rouge Ballroom, time really did seem to slow. He heard each deafening rush of his heartbeat in his ears, he felt himself lurch forward, and he watched in mute, helpless horror as the boy’s body fell for what felt like eternity. He was too far away – he couldn’t have done a thing to catch him; he could only watch. 

Eventually, the eternity came to an abrupt halt. Harry could see nothing through the crowd, but he heard a noise in the deafening silence that suggested Eggsy’s descent had stopped. Whether by the floor or by helping hands, Harry couldn’t say. Because nobody had screamed, or at least gasped in horror, Harry had to assume somebody had caught the boy. 

Everything was quiet, but the heads at the center of the room, closest to where Eggsy fell, began to turn slightly. A path seemed to clear, slowly, headed toward the stage. Belatedly, Harry noticed the doors, just beneath the elaborately elevated stage. Just before the doors were thrown open, Harry finally caught a glimpse of Eggsy, cradled in the arms of a man, around Eggsy’s age, in a silver costume. They were hurriedly rushed through the doors by what appeared to by more dancers, female this time, and all of them in outlandish costumes. All but one. Harry didn’t get a good look at her, but she was the only one of the group dressed somewhat plainly, with dirty blonde hair swept up into an enormous pompadour. Her hand covered the lower half of her face, and she seemed to reach for Eggsy before the doors slammed closed. For a moment, everything was still.

A booming laugh echoed throughout the hall, and Harry’s attention was jerked away from the doors. A man, tall, dark-skinned, and dressed outrageously in a bright red suit, stood in front of the band on the grand stage. His laugh was infectious, for soon the dramatic, tense air of the room melted away to a roar as nearly every man in the crowd joined in. Every man except Harry, it seemed. 

Movement caught his eye, and he half-turned quickly, spotting Merlin hurrying toward the doors beneath the stage. A deafening cheer ran through the crowd as the man in red said something about a new dance. Harry realized, with sudden clarity, that something was terribly, horribly wrong. 

The man in red was a distraction, and Merlin was hurrying to see what was the matter with Eggsy. In a moment of stomach-churning panic, Harry took off towards the doors, hoping to intercept Merlin before he went through. Despite just meeting the boy tonight, Harry felt he practically knew the boy already. He knew Merlin cared deeply for him, and he also found himself inexplicably drawn to him in the short time he’d known him. 

The crowd pressed in on Harry from all sides, and his elbows may have “accidentally” made the acquaintance of the ribs of those who didn’t move quickly enough for Harry’s liking, but his broad shoulders and long legs made it easier for him to maneuver the unruly crowd. He met Merlin just as he reached the doors.

“No.” Merlin’s voice brooked no argument. His face and voice were stern, but there was tightness in his jaw and around his eyes that screamed his worry. Merlin was a stoic man, even in the face of trouble. If his worry was so pronounced, he must have been caught entirely off-guard. Something Harry was scared to see. 

“I’m not arguing,” was all Harry could say.

Merlin nodded decisively before opening the door, and before another word was spoken, Harry shoved him to the side and rushed through the door. Immediately, the same boy in the silver costume from before was in his face, trying to shove him back through the doors, shouting obscenities.

“It’s fine, Jamal,” Merlin sighed, wearily. Decades of friendship told him no amount of force could keep Harry away when he wanted something. “He’s with me.”

Jamal seemed to consider for a second, looking Harry up and down, before smirking. “This your writer friend? Eggsy’s always banging on about your stories, bruv.” 

At the mention of Eggsy’s name, Harry felt a cold finger of fear trail its way down his spine. He looked to Merlin, who was already striding past Jamal. The younger man had to press himself against the wall to make room for Merlin in the narrow hall, and Harry quickly followed with a polite nod. 

The hall was short, and led into a small, crowded room. Women of all sorts were crowded around Eggsy, who had been carefully laid on a ratty orange and white striped couch. He was still unconscious, and a fine layer of sweat made his skin gleam and his hair stick to his forehead. The blond woman Harry had seen reach for Eggsy was curled protectively around his head, gently stroking his hair. This close, Harry could see a striking resemblance in the two. 

“Mrs. Baker, ladies, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask that you leave. There’s no telling what happened, and on the off chance he’s contagious-“ Merlin began, but he no sooner finished the word contagious before the women in the room scattered. 

Mrs. Baker, however, paused at the doorway. “Friend of yours?” She nodded at Harry. 

“Aye.” Was Merlin’s answer. 

She smirked before leaving the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up folks, this chapter is an odd one. I can't say I'm entirely pleased with how it turned out. It's all backstory, since, in all honesty, I didn't want to just jump into Eggsy waking up, and I felt like some backstory would give the story more life.

Harry took a seat in the plush, if well worn, armchair in the corner of the room. He knew better than to get too close when Merlin was working. A sudden thought occurred to him. 

“You don’t think he’s contagious at all do you?” he asked. Merlin didn’t even spare him a glance, reaching for a medical case in a locked cabinet in the room. “You just wanted to empty the room.”

“Aye. And if I had my way about it, you wouldn’t be here, either. Now shut up and let me do my job.” For the first time in known history, Harry did as he was told without argument. Instead, he remembered. 

Before coming to work at the Moulin Rouge, Merlin had always been a great doctor. His skills at school were so prolific, that many had wondered why someone so talented would take such an unusual position. Most people had speculated it was to do with the dancers. A fair few had guessed it was to do with the promise of meeting with all the best and brightest of the bohemian revolution, who frequented the surrounding cafés. They were all wrong. Merlin himself had never cared for poetry, nor did he fancy himself someone who would waste his time with a dancer. 

In all actuality, it was probably only Harry and Merlin himself who knew the real reason he had taken the position in Paris ten years before. Eggsy hadn’t been a dancer back then, being only fourteen. Nobody was quite sure why the young boy with the angelic features, and only a rudimentary understanding of French, had shown up at the cabaret when it first opened. The boy in question seemed to shut down any time it was mentioned, even ten years later. What was known, however, was how he had charmed the main financier, Chester King, into giving him a job cleaning up the place after hours. 

King, who was known to be a classist prick at the best of times, seemed begrudgingly impressed with the boy. He was loath to pay him even the simplest of compliments, but Eggsy was worth his weight in praise. It wasn’t long before the older gentleman was telling everyone he met about how he had saved the poor thing from the streets. Harry and Merlin, who had known a Lee Unwin years before, startled at having heard of a boy who seemed to share so many characteristics with the man they once knew. The man who had died under Merlin and Harry’s care, when both young men were doctors in London. 

Harry himself had quit the practice not long after Lee’s death. The three of them had all been good friends, once, and the younger man’s death took a greater toll on Harry than he would have liked to admit. Merlin kept the practice open, hired a new doctor to take Harry’s place, and Harry wrote his first novel, about a young man with a loving family, who fell ill, and through some miracle, survived to see his young son married with children of his own. 

When Chester King, just back from another routine business trip to France, told his family doctor about the young boy he’d given a job, Merlin was shocked. He and Harry had long since lost track of what was left of the Unwin family, but both still felt a strong sense of responsibility for the two of them. Merlin, always inquisitive and a bit more cunning than he cared to let on, insisted on following Chester King on any foreign business trips, under the guise of being concerned about the aging gentleman’s heart. 

Upon meeting Eggsy for the first time, Merlin was quick to realize who Eggsy was, and even quicker to “let” himself be talked into a new position at the nightclub. 

Merlin had tried many times over the years to get Harry to visit. Harry had even made plans to go to France, once, but an almighty row with his father had thrown a wrench in the works. In a fit of rage, his father cursed him for ever leaving his promising career as a doctor, to write “nonsense fairytales” and “leave his family name to ruin.” He warned Harry against going to France, threatening to cut him from the will should he go. In all actuality, if it had ended there, Harry would have stubbornly gone on ahead, but in the weeks leading up to his departure, his father fell gravely ill. 

There was no heartwarming moment of understanding between the two men. Not in words, at least. They were both too stubborn and “proper” for that sort of thing. But Harry canceled the trip, and he steadfastly avoided any notion of visiting the Moulin Rouge, even four years after his father’s death. 

But Merlin, ever the stubborn arse that Harry had befriended decades before, had finally had enough of Harry’s avoidance, and brought up a rather embarrassing incident involving two male prostitutes, a baby grand piano, more alcohol than most humans should ever see in their lives, let alone drink in one evening, and one very angry hotel owner. 

And so, Harry sat in the shabbiest armchair he’d ever been acquainted with, in his nicest tuxedo, watching his oldest friend try and diagnose a sick young man, unconscious with fever, and thinking about death, old promises, and, deadliest of all things, stomach churning regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes! Okay, so I know it isn't mentioned in the story, but Harry and Merlin met when they were teenagers. I imagine they went to the same boring parties with their parents, and had a lot of fun being asshats together. The two of them, with their penchant for trouble, eventually got themselves kicked out of most "posh" venues pretty quick, and began running around the rougher parts of town. That's where they met Lee, who was surprised to be the voice of reason for once in his life. He was quite shocked that two boys from such respectable backgrounds could be such disasters as to need him of all people to be the Mom Friend.
> 
> The three of them were such good friends that Lee made Merlin his best man, only after letting the two of them have an all out brawl over who got the honor. Harry attempted to fight dirty, but Merlin fought with even fewer morals. Both men decided to gift Lee and his new bride a house for their wedding present, however. 
> 
> They were all very good friends, right up until Lee's death. Harry and Merlin were both hit hard by his demise, but both dealt with it in different ways. Harry gave up being a doctor so he wouldn't have to feel responsible for the death of a loved one ever again. Merlin threw himself into his studies so that he could make up for what he perceived as failing Lee. 
> 
> And Michelle Unwin remarried a baker's son, set to inherit his father's small shop, and Harry and Merlin assumed all was well and left the two to manage by themselves. They felt especially unwelcome after Michelle, blaming the two for her husband's death, chucked a cast iron skillet at Harry's head. Luckily, he ducked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.

Eggsy came back to consciousness slowly, feeling warm hands pressed against his clammy forehead. His limbs felt like they were made of lead, and his eyelids were so heavy he almost considered drifting comfortably back to sleep. But he hadn’t been sleeping, he realized with a start. He forced his eyes open, and frantically searched for Merlin, who was standing over him. His hands moved from his forehead to just under his jaw. His eyes met Eggsy’s, noticing he was awake. 

“What the shitting fuck happened to me, Guv?” he asked, his thick accent a bit slurred. Was his tongue always this uncomfortable to have in his mouth? A chuckle from across the cramped room caught his attention, and he tried to look around Merlin to see who it was. His unwillingness to move anything lower than his chin, however, made it impossible to tell. 

“You scared the shit out of us all is what happened. Almost made it into the rafters, finishing your bloody song, and you fell off your swing. Completely unconscious.” Merlin’s voice was even, and, ten years ago, maybe, Eggsy would have thought he didn’t care. Wasn’t really worried. But Eggsy knew Merlin better than anyone else, and he knew Merlin was scared. 

“Hang on- how did you get me mum to leave? If I were ‘completely unconscious,’” he mimicked Merlin’s accent, “she’d a raised hell before leaving me alone. Least ‘til I was awake.” An honest question, but also a way of getting Merlin distracted. Nothing ruffled Merlin’s feathers quicker than having him think you were making fun of his accent. Something he and Eggsy had in common, so any ribbing on the subject between the two was always met with begrudging humor, rather than actual hostility. 

It worked. A small smirk twitched at the corners of Merlin’s lips. “Might have mentioned you possibly being contagious.”

Eggsy laughed, loudly. And then he was coughing. Deep, heaving, painful coughs, that shred his throat and made his whole chest contract. 

“Harry, quickly! Go get some water!” Merlin shouted, turning Eggsy on his side. He pressed his handkerchief to the boy’s mouth, kneeling in front of the sofa with one arm wrapped around the boy’s quaking shoulders. 

Harry was up and out of the room, rushing down the hall where he’d seen the ladies leave. Eggsy hardly noticed. His whole body hurt from the hacking coughs, but he couldn’t stop. His whole throat felt like it was on fire, where the heat was so intense it could only be experienced as a chill. 

Finally, the coughing subsided. Eggsy stayed leaned over, gasping for breath. Merlin brought the handkerchief away from his face, and Eggsy heard a low gasp. He looked up, meeting Merlin’s horrified eyes. In that moment, he knew whatever was happening was beyond terrible. Nothing caught Merlin so off guard. Nothing made Merlin actually look so obviously terrified. 

He felt a trickle of something, probably drool, at the corner of his mouth. He made to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, but the hand not holding the handkerchief stopped him. Merlin dabbed at his mouth with the cloth, before bringing it up for Eggsy to see. 

Bright red blood spattered the pristine white fabric, and a smear at one corner from where Merlin had wiped his mouth. For a second, one beautiful, blissful second, Eggsy didn’t understand. 

And then he did. And he sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got a move on with the plot, and I hate myself. I am going to bring all of them so much pain and suffering. You don't even know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Merlin talk about alcohol.

Harry came rushing back to the small sitting room, a glass and a pitcher of water in hand, to find it was empty. He stood there, confused, worried, and feeling a bit like a tit, for a moment, before he set the pitcher and glass on a nearby table and collapsed into the same arm chair he had occupied before. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, but it couldn’t have been long, before Merlin came back into the room. He looked as put together as always, so Harry let the worry fade. Instead, he felt anger rise where the worry had once been.

“What the fuck was that, Merlin? You send me off on an errand only to disappear before I can come back? What, you just wanted me out of the room?” His voice was acidic, but he didn’t stand from the chair. He found he got things a lot easier by at least trying to appear calm, even if he didn’t feel it.

Merlin, for his part, was unfazed. “No, Harry. I sent you to get water because I thought the boy might need it. Dehydration and physical exhaustion are quite common for the performers. However, after the coughing subsided, Eggsy was very insistent that I take him to his room so that he may sleep. I didn’t slight you, you just weren’t a priority.” The words were calm, measured, and sharp as any of the scalpels in his bag.

Harry looked properly chastised. Despite his age, he looked the perfect image of a child after being scolded. “Sorry, Merlin. I’m sorry.” 

Merlin nodded his acceptance of the apology, before turning to grab his coat. “If it’s alright with you, Harry, I’m bored as shit. How about a round of drinks at yours?”

“So long as you buy the bottle, or bottles, I’m all in,” Harry said, unfolding himself from the arm chair. It wasn’t until he had fully unfolded his legs and given it a proper look that he noticed all four legs had been broken. Suddenly, his knees being almost above his head made more sense.

“And why the hell should I buy the fucking alcohol?” came Merlin’s indignant reply.

“Travel isn’t cheap, my friend. I’m afraid this trip has ruined me, financially. You know, I may never recover.” They left the sitting room not through the narrow hall leading to the ball room, but through the other doorway, into a much longer hallway with a decrepit door at the end. A faint glow about the dirty glass suggested the lights from the city outside. 

“Oh I’m sure one measly trip to Paris has ruined you, after twenty fucking years of traveling the bleeding world.” The shabby door led out into a stinking alleyway, but from where they were standing, Harry could clearly see the doormen of the hotel where he was staying. 

As the two men made their way to the hotel, arguing over who was going to buy the booze, only one of them thought of the boy, barely old enough to be considered a man, tucked up in bed and crying as quietly as he was able. 

Nobody ever said life was fair, but it’s hard to imagine you won’t live to see your next birthday. A shame, really. His parents had been married when they were twenty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. This one's short, so I'm sorry. I meant for it to be longer, but that didn't happen. Not a whole lot going on here, and then I just drop a fucking angst bomb at the end. 
> 
> Just to clarify, Eggsy is 24, his parents had been married at 25, he really wanted to fall in love and get married, and now he knows he's going to be dead in a matter of months! Yay! What a fun, happy thing to happen. Someone should have stopped me before I started this monstrosity. I was talking about it with Kassi today, and she was disgusted with how mean I'm going to be to all of these characters. Let me warn you, folks. This is not going to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, want to follow me on [tumblr](http://ineffablybookish.tumblr.com/) for updates?


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